This is Now
by FourTrisTheImpenetrable
Summary: They said he fought their wars. They also said he had the choice of a lifetime, but he declined that invitation. That was the past- oh, so many dreadful years back. This is now- a strict soldier leading those below his precious rank to triumphant victories. That was then and this is now. Full summary inside.
1. Prologue

**This is Now**

**Summary: **_They said he fought their wars. Nobody knew. They also said he had the choice of a lifetime, but he declined that invitation. Not one individual—supreme deity or mortal—was, in fact, truly sure. _

That was the past_—oh, so many dreadful years back. So far through time, not even the Titans themselves could truly remember what events materialized in what particular order, none cared in the slightest for._

This is now_—a strict soldier leading those below his precious rank to triumphant victories. He had fought in more than half a thousand battles, shed more blood in his impossible path than any ocean could ever carry in its crashing body, and saved more innocents than the entire population of Earth. He had honed his skills to the best of the best, to the impractical. The only problem? For accepting such a rare rank, he was stripped of his voice. He is silent and deadly and dark._

That was then and this is now.

**Disclaimer: Rick Riordan owns PJO and HoO, I do not. I only own the few characters I make up.**

* * *

"_It is a man's own mind, not his enemy or foe, that lures him to evil ways_." ~Buddha

* * *

Us.

How, mortal, would you picture us with your feeble mind, an elite team of assassins?

Now, now, don't think about it too much. We wouldn't want you dying of spontaneous combustion, just put an image of one of us in your mind.

Donned with tight, light-as-air clothes that don't weigh us down and a cape, perhaps. You'd better think again with the strange masks we wear, because we don't. No, much to your inclined thoughts, assassins are allowed to show their faces to their victims-right before they die, that is. Respect, Lord Erebus had drilled into each and every one of us; it was all about the respect as professional killers.

But, see, here's the similarity between us and your imagination's assassins: we were trained to be hardcore, stealthy, and (the biggest one, in my opinion) silent. But everybody focuses on that one aspect of an assassin's life.

Silence.

Always the silence, it seemed. We weren't assassins if we were silent, we were told. Nobody paid any interest in how we were trained, how we felt about the situation. No, our master was the one everyone targeted, I almost felt bad for the poor guy, really. That is, if it were possible to feel a warm intimation of emotion nowadays... Ha. I crack myself up.

You see, we were trained in the art of death, of swordsmanship, of archery, of valor, of victory. Oh, how one's weapon could sink within a dead heart is innumerable. There's the poisoned arrow, the poisoned knife... Ah, yes, poison. Such a key to most successes, this potion. Offensive tactics towards our opponents always goes through our minds, even as we sleep. If we thought nothing as we slept, how were we alive? That's the question everyone wants an answer to. It'll do you well to remember that, I'm sure.

The life of an assassin is hard, filled with lonely days. Because of our prowess, no backup is needed, unlike most of your soldiers. One being, Lord Erebus had stated, was more than enough to sneak into a building and kill off two dozen attackers.

Lord Erebus... Yes, now what would we be doing if he never gathered us together? We would all be normal-living among the mortals-normal lives, normal looks, normal personalities. But our one and only savior turned us into what we are today: the five legendary Guardians of Night. Don't get us wrong; we praise our Lord and Savior every single day, for without him, we would be nothing but dead corpses buried in the ground. We owe him our very lives.

Why, you ask, am I informing you about this?

The answer is quite a complex one, I'm sure. Because I've been broken again and again. Because I've been restored, much better than my former glory, in fact.

Because I am someone you knew once before; I can't say I was ever the same, though.

Because I am the dead Percy Jackson. I have arisen once more.

And this is my story: my path of assassin. My story through betrayal, through soul, and through saving the world one last time.


	2. In the Beginning

**Chapter One: In the Beginning**

"_False words are not only evil in themselves, but they infect the soul with evil._" ~Socrates

* * *

Sometimes I thought about how I first became a Guardian of Night. I couldn't help but wince at the guise of my past self-when I was pure hearted, oh, so very innocent. How did I even join Lord Erebus? How did I turn so evil?

Now, now. _Evil_. Stay away from that word; that single, cursed word. I could consider telling you.

It was an eye for an eye, my leader had said. A choice that could change me forever. Me, being me, accepted. However, I didn't-couldn't-know how much that choice would alter my life. Believe my words, that choice continues its process to this very day, slowly but surely.

Let me begin from the beginning; a cruel, harsh start. It was back when he first appeared, Lord Erebus, with that choice... No, no. Further back.

When I ran away from Camp Half-Blood... No. Much further back in time.

Let's see... Ah. It was when she spat in my face one of the multifarious phrases I dreaded hearing, let alone seeing spoken. Yes, this particular girl had me smitten for years, playing Nemesis's foolish version of 'hard to get'. Indeed, what excitement she let loose throughout my free, lively years.

Only (here comes the irony in that), she didn't love me as I so strongly her. I mean, sure, she listened to what I had to say, but did she mean it? No. Sure, she was a shoulder to lean onto, but did she mean that? Nope; it was all lost hopes and dreams for me.

So what if she was Olympus's architect, being busy from dawn to dusk each day. She could have spared a couple of seconds. She could have called me and asked what's up. Hell, she could have come down to Manhattan quick during her lunch breaks. We could have had a meal together at a nearby restaurant.

Now before you let your mouth run feral with questions, let me sprinkle in a minuscule piece of information: if Annabeth didn't have the time to come down from Olympus herself, I would have the decency to visit her, right? Of course; I wasn't nearly as dense as others thought me out to be. I had a mind of my own. Me, being me, visited my darling girlfriend during her breaks on Olympus.

The first couple of times was okay. Great, even. An ample amount of sandwiches and Coka Cola. Annabeth would talk about her latest projects. After that, she would turn me into a proud boyfriend of his girlfriend by talking about my father, Poseidon's, shrine. She'd switch to news about the gods' gossip and finally of her mortal family: her step-mom, father, and two brothers.

Her voice dragged me in. Such a sweet melody hers was, as light as a feather drifting along a gentle breeze found on the beach. Each syllable was beautiful, making me wonder if the English language was specifically invented for conform to her full, naked lips. An angel she was, purer than the goddess Aphrodite, I could admit.

She was happy, I was happy, everyone was happy. Everything was going fine, until something in that disgusting girl snapped, leaving me confused and given the despicable job of cleaning up the pieces.

I didn't know what was going on. Her calm guise went only downhill from there. I remembered at one point I started to think her mother had changed her point of view on me. They probably were. Could Annabeth's values have flipped, too? Hell yeah. Her nose was in a book or type of plan for Olympus 24/7. She grew cross with me over the littlest of things-no olives on her pizza.

Furious, I stopped visiting her for lunch. I stopped interacting with her. Hell, I stopped staring at her all together, hoping she needed some alone time to clear her mind.

Her acts didn't change as I hoped they would.

Despite this, I resumed my normal activities, scaling the lava wall, sword fighting Ares campers, staying away from a bow and arrow. Did I mention that Annabeth did too? If anything, she spent even further time up on Olympus. I had begun to think she was seeing someone.

But, no, my Wise Girl couldn't possibly cheat on me... Could she?

Wrong once again. You see, I felt bad for my actions. Maybe it was the guilt; maybe it was karma, or Nemesis, even Aphrodite. I swore to the River Styx I would kill that goddess when I had the chance. Whatever the meaning of this, I didn't know. Nor did I frankly care, for that matter. I decided to go visit her, my possible ex-girlfriend, up on Mount Olympus.

Turns out, my thoughts were proven correct. Apparently she was. I didn't know why she traded all our experiences, all our conversations, our secrets, for that guy. Why? I won't mention the poor idiot's name; you can guess all you want, it's too pathetic to be heard.

A polite exchange of words later and I walked out. I couldn't take it. I left Olympus. I left Annabeth, left her new boyfriend, my friends, and soon all of Camp Half-Blood. I marched straight past those borders at midnight.

It was the best decision I had ever made. In my life.

Because not an hour later, Lord Erebus paid an orphan-like me a visit. I was scared at first; I didn't know how to respond. He saved me the guess by being straightforward with it. He said who he was, Erebus, and addressed me, Perseus Jackson, son of Poseidon and Sally Jackson.

I told him to stop being so damn formal, that to which he simply laughed off. Unmannerly, I was sure, but when did a primordial like Lord Erebus visit demigods? He told me he came with a proposal; I could decline if I wanted. He gave me that choice, that single, eternal choice.

Me, being me, accepted.


	3. If Only

**Chapter Two: If Only**

"_Sometimes the best way to completely let go of your past is to let go of the people who dwell in it._" ~Unknown

* * *

After accepting I hadn't known what to expect. Being cheated on by Annabeth and running away from my home, I thought I was prepared for anything. I discovered I was not, not even by a long shot, gods forbid.

Upon arriving Lord Erebus explained to me the rules. Standard procedures. Ranks. Protocols. Respect. It seemed that where he led me was a maze of darkness and rock. To my left: rock. To my right: rock. All around me: darkness. I hadn't known where I was.

"Headquarters," Erebus simply stated, his gaze tightly fixed on the black in front of us. It had not occurred to me he had just read my mind.

He had either done just that or simply had sprouted that word from his mouth. I decided to ask. "Wait, what do you mean?"

"_Sir_," Erebus said smoothly.

Sir? What? Respect, Erebus told me later. Respect, respect. A personal vice of mine, that had not taken long for me to master through my years of servitude to Erebus. Alas, the same could not be said for the day I arrived, this day. I had been singled out, I remembered that well.

I sighed. Annoyance, probably. But I wasn't going to let this guy get to me; he had saved my life. I allowed the single word, adding it to the end of my prose. "What do you mean, sir?"

He smirked, raising a hand, signaling I stop in my pace. I did. "Welcome, Perseus Jackson, to the Praxi." The darkness around us faded away, replaced instead with mist. It wasn't the oracle's green mist, no, it was more evil, colored black. It reminded me of ashes and something more cynical.

Ashes and death and the faces of those I cared for painted blank. It almost pained me to think their names...

My mom, Sally Jackson.

Poseidon.

Grover.

Rachel.

Erebus resumed walking. I followed suit. The mist around us began to burn me like acid. Acid, acid, acid. Burning. My clothes, it seemed, did not help, nor did my little swim just a couple of months ago in the River Styx. If anything, it was my invincibility that fueled the acid-like mist to keep eating away at me.

I was careful not to scream, clenching my fists and grounding my jaw. I didn't want Erebus thinking I was a weakling; I certainly wasn't. I kept walking, focusing on one foot in front of the other. That was all I could think about: my footsteps and the waves of pain.

I felt it coursing through my veins, seeping into my bones. I wasn't sure if I was dead or alive anymore. Alive or dead. I had no idea. Just that I was succumbing to this poisonous mist. It was sucking away at my stamina and emotions, leaving me exhausted yet determined to kill. It was as if the mist was a million little termites and I the wood. The mist seemed to stick to me.

My feet soon shook, incapable of holding me up. I swayed. I was seconds away from falling. But I had to keep going. Keep going; keep walking. Don't feel, only see; don't feel. I focused of reality. Ahead of me, Erebus led the way through the mist. He stood tall at his stroll.

"W-what's happening?" My voice was just above a breath of a whisper. I had never sounded like this before.

Erebus didn't notice. "Your invulnerability has to be expunged somehow," he stated.

I took an unexpected crash into the right side of the eternally long tunnel. "Then what is it-"

"Doing?" Lord Erebus raised an eyebrow and turned to look at me. "Erasing who you were, simply."

I rose from the wall, regaining my balance. "No... I-I didn't ask for this. I just thought I was joining you for the better of my other choice. I didn't think I was-"

Erebus stopped me short, facing me with an expression of dark mirth. "Other choice? What other choice? Living on the streets, hiding in fear of being found? Punished for leaving your Camp without permission? Living a life similar to that of Luke Castellan, Thalia Grace, and, _oh_, yes, your darling Annabeth Chase? Always on the run. Humblest apologies, Perseus, should you feel out of place, you may leave at this given point in time."

I did not budge. I knew he was right in his words.

"Go ahead. Serve the gods."

I shook my head, meeting his icy stare with the same determination. I stood up straighter. "Of course not... Sir. I-I was foolish to think such a thing of them, the gods."

"Down with them," he sneered. "Your loyalty stays with me from now on. You won't regret your decision, I'm sure."

"Yes... Sir."

Erebus was satisfied with my answer. He whipped around, turning his back to me, and resumed in his pace.

Then and there, first lesson fully grasped and stowed: never question the master's motives. Oh, if only I knew how long that phrase took to memorize, how many beatings I had to endure for it to stick. My torturer was not to blame, I suppose, it was me. All me. After all, I more than deserved them, for it was the beatings that taught me about pain, that it demanded to be felt. Such a cruel thing it was.

It did not take long for the poison-mist to fade, an obsidian complex of, well, obsidian out in the distance.

"Sir, where are we?" I asked him. I was getting the hang of this 'sir' stuff.

"The Praxi," he replied. "The dead pass it as they go to the Underworld, waiting _centuries_ for judgement, last I heard."

"That is true, sir."

Erebus glanced back, curious. He studied my expression, calm and collected. He shrugged it off.

"Praxi. _Act_," I translated, glad to change the subject. "What does it mean, sir?"

Erebus let out a breath through his nose. "Chaos knows. One passes through the Praxi, unseen to one's eyes, washing away one's deeds, acts."

"Like the River Lethe."

He frowned with full disapproval. "We are not this hopeless here, Perseus. Memories are key to survival." He pretended to pick out an invisible hair from his breastplate, letting it fall to the ground. "Come, Perseus. Your new life awaits you."

I obediently did so. If only I knew that this was going to be my last view of Erebus's great castle. If only I had taken the time to look at its details, I would have seen the ghosts of those I cared for at the walls of the threshold. I would have seen them pleading, their hands folded, eyes wide, begging me not to enter the complex, that it was not too late to turn back and return to Camp Half-Blood, safe and unchanged.

If only I had listened to them.


	4. Beginnings

**Chapter Three: Beginnings**

"_The beginnings and endings of all human undertakings are untidy._" ~John Galsworthy

* * *

What a word, beginnings. The start of something, whether it be new or old.

Beginnings, I supposed, were full of bad choices: birth, life, and overall death. Out of those three, one didn't have much say in their birth or death. But life—now, that was a different story. One makes their very first choices when they begin their life. So much choice one had, I could laugh.

My beginning, you say? What of my beginning? Here is the irony of it all: I wasn't even supposed to be born. My father, who never cared for me, told me so, decades ago. And my mother? She gave me many intimations; she wouldn't dare say it to my face. She wouldn't have liked to see my reaction, whether it be happy or sad. Thinking back on it, my reaction would have probably killed her, my mother.

_Really?_ I asked myself. _Really?_

How could I have let myself go so low as to believe my parents? I'd bet my loyalty to Lord Erebus right here, right now that my mother didn't care for me. Sure, she raised me, gave me an education, and food on the table, but she was only doing that because _I_ was the great demigod son of Poseidon, god of the seas. I needed to be raised into a humble, modest hero. She probably didn't want to disappoint Poseidon, either. No, my acceptance of him as father vanished the day I walked through the Praxi. I didn't care for him anymore.

From then on, my life became easier. Well, easier than my life back at Camp Half-Blood. It wasn't silly games anymore, I'd learned. It was strictly business now; shoot first and ask questions later. Looking back on my first day, I couldn't believe I'd acted like I had. I was still used to Camp Half-Blood's company, something I figured the Praxi could never fade away entirely from my mind. If only I could have gone back in time and slapped into myself some sense, told myself of my future... Ah, alas, my girlfriend would not approve. _Leave your past as it was_, she'd tell me. I knew she was right, but I wished so badly she wasn't.

You see, I acted cocky in the Lord's presence.

Aggressive.

Harsh.

Like Ares, the god of war. And that wasn't me.

Looking back on it, my past self reminded me of _her_, Annabeth, before I had recently seen her. When she had snapped in Olympus.

Olympus. What a familiar name that was. I hadn't been there in a long time since meeting Annabeth for lunch. A visit was in order. How much of a laugh I'd have at them. Maybe even a silly spar with that daughter of Ares, Clarisse. Oh, wait.

_Oh_, the irony. She was dead for seventy years! Immortality had its perks, I supposed.

You see, one wasn't supposed to show any disrespect to Lord Erebus, especially talking back. That was rarely even heard of. The last person who disrespected Lord Erebus... Well, no one knows, to be honest. Some say the poor soul was never heard from or seen again; although, it was probably one of those rumors people spread for their amusement.

In consequence of my severe actions, I was beaten badly and pushed to my absolute limits by one of the trainers, Lucas Alton. This mysterious young man, Lucas, was the perfect definition of Nico and the Stolls minus their sarcasm mashed together into one human being. Lucas's stealth and prowess made him incapable of death altogether, but one of his close friends assured me that he was, indeed, capable to die. The detail pretty much astounded me.

Lucas didn't share much about his life during my first few years at Headquarters. I had been starting to think he was raised to be a strict soldier-type all his life. When we started, Lucas trained me rather harshly with a sword. Luke's techniques, I discovered, were false. The trainer had made sure to point that out to me in the beginning.

I remembered my first day quite well. I had just received my new room, the closet stocked with clothes all my size, bed slightly floating as if the gravity was turned off, and the obsidian walls painted with strange symbols in dark gray. I would soon discover it was my history as son of Poseidon, so I wouldn't forget who I had been before this life, because memories were key to survival, Lord Erebus had stated. My not-yet-friend Aquin, another trainer, would translate each of the symbols, word for word.

I had been the newcomer. It was me and about three dozen others. The most recent newcomer besides myself was someone who had arrived two years before me. It seemed everyone knew of and cared for her. They always referred to her as "Z". The reason why was unknown to me. However, rumor was it she could strike a single hair of one's head with a single arrow.

I didn't interfere with anybody, mostly. I tried not to make myself out as the stupid kid who sucked at everything. No, I tried to live up to everyone's expectations. That didn't even last a full day. Three hours, I pulled it off. Okay, okay. Two hours fifty-seven minutes, if you were getting technical.

It failed point blank when I, along with four others, each grabbed a bow from the rack. I tried to act like I knew what I was doing. I watched the trainer overlooked each of us as we raised our bows. I pulled out an arrow from the quiver on my back. I set the arrow in line with the string and pulled that awkward string back.

Only one thought went through my mind: _Just hit the target. Just hit the target._

I forced my shaking hands to steady as I aimed the bow at the target, approximately ten feet from me. I focused on the red circle in the center; that small circle was all I needed.

The trainer yelled, "Fire!" and I let that evil little wooden arrow go. All of my pleas had no effect. Four arrows were scattered among the bull's-eye. And the fifth, my arrow?

That was stuck on the ceiling.

The trainer, Aquin, had a good laugh then, but all I felt was ashamed. I needed to prove myself to the trainers, that I wasn't just some weak newcomer Lord Erebus invited for the heck of it. So what if archery wasn't exactly my specialty? I could, I discovered, work my way around that.

I wasn't so great with archery, but with a sword? Hell yeah. What I didn't know about archery, I picked up in sword fighting. The trainer there, Lucas, knew a thing or two about bows. He admitted himself, he was like me when he first arrived. He preferred the sword and from there, Lord Erebus steadied his focus on swords.

Some days it was me and two others reporting for class. Others it was me and ten others. Each session, it seemed, was different in a way. No two classes were the same.

Take this day for example, day three since my arrival. I had been feeling pretty confident on that day, asking Lucas if he was up for a spar. He agreed.

"Don't go easy on me," I had told him, uncapping my sword.

Lucas smiled faintly in return. "As you wish," he said. "Don't be surprised by the pain, that is normal."

Lucas and I tested each other. He faked a right hook and I sidestepped. I swiped at his feet and he leapt back. It went on like this for awhile, a stalemate, when Lucas narrowed his eyes.

"Tired?" he casually inquired.

I had been exhausted to the bone. I wanted to drench myself in water then fight him with my son-of-the-sea-god powers. I wanted to call out a time out, but this was what he expected of me. I needed to prove myself.

I shook my head, closing my mouth. I steadied my breathing. "No," I said.

Lucas smirked. His attacks on me grew faster and faster, more repetitive, more powerful, until I was sure he was slicing away entire limbs. I tried to block, but I was too slow. He was like a tornado, an almost-vanishing blur of darkness. Deep cuts and scrapes appeared on my body as if I had walked through a storm of knives.

One second he was kicking the back of my knees, driving me to the floor, and the next my feet were swept clean from beneath me. My sword wasn't even in my hand. Lucas had a foot placed on my back, like I was some sort of wild animal that needed to be tamed.

I couldn't lift my head off the ground. If I had, a sword point would've went through my neck.

"Surrender?" Lucas asked through gritted teeth.

I hadn't thought my voice would turn that high when I was pinned helpless to the floor. I whispered something along the lines of either "Yes" or "Agh". Maybe it was a mixture of both.

Sword point and foot were removed, leaving me aching with absolute pain on the cold cement of the arena. It radiated through me, wave after wave after wave. Lucas's voice was fading as he said, "Tomorrow, same time."

I remembered I groaned in response, but I wasn't completely sure because either I was dead then, or I was asleep, the pain serving as a background song to my messed up dreams.


	5. Citlalli, Lali, and Laila

**Chapter Four: Citlalli, Lali, and Laila**

"_The work of science is to substitute facts for appearances, and demonstrations for impressions_." ~John Ruskin

* * *

I spent my fourth day at the infirmary. But before that, I remembered waking up to the gritty cement of the arena I fell unconscious in. Not exactly infirmary-like, huh? The cement was wet with what I figured was my blood and the only thing I could focus on was a tiny pebble a way's from me. I flipped myself over, laying on my back. My hands were sticky with blood, I could never get that out of my mind.

A few muscles groaned in response to my movement, but I ignored them. The pain... The pain felt nice. It felt real; something I could cling onto. Welcoming.

The lights above me were a whole other story. They were bright, shining directly in what I considered my face. I wasn't completely sure about it. The dizziness was screwing too much with my mind. I had just about given up trying to blink against the lights and I closed my eyes, which wasn't as tiring as one would think.

Peaceful darkness.

It seemed to be hours that I laid in my dreamlike state before urgent footsteps echoed, growing louder with each pound on the cement. They drummed over, step by step, and I had the feeling they were going to run me over. Instead they paused. A ruffling of fabric and a weary sigh. I opened my eyes.

I met cold eyes and a frown. It was a girl, dressed in all black, her outfit complete with combat boots and an arrangement of little gadgets hanging from her belt- knives, flasks, feathers, and oddly colored liquid held by the pint in small test tubes.

"Jackson," she said.

I hadn't remembered seeing her around the compound. Was she new? No. No, she couldn't have been. Her motions were like that of the other trainers'. She held herself with the same sense of power and responsibility as the others.

But, really, I hadn't seen any female trainers around. Where had she been?

The girl snapped her fingers, getting my rapid attention. "You heard me," she said, this time more forcefully. "Get up, Jackson. I'm not dragging you to the infirmary myself."

I ignored her impatient tone. It filled my body with torture at just the thought of full-out walking. I shook my head. "Can't." My voice was at a breezing whisper.

She rose, standing to her full height. "If you're not getting up, then..." she shrugged, "I'm leaving."

A nervous want not to be alone shook through me and I lifted my heavy head to watch her as she left. "Wait," I called. "Wait!"

She turned at the threshold, her hand resting on the metal door. "The all-powerful Jackson can't stand up?"

I was quiet for a moment before answering. "No. I-I can't. And I'm not all-powerful."

"'Course you are. Lord Erebus picked you for a reason."

"What do you mean?"

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Cas was right," she muttered. "Why did I choose this?"

"I'm still here."

The girl frowned, her chocolate skin almost glowing with power. "I know." She snapped her fingers again, and this time it wasn't to get my attention. All the tension in my back disappeared and I started to fly off the ground. I had begun to freak out, but the girl regarded me with the same bored expression.

"Not cool," I told her.

She shrugged. "Magick."

"Magic?"

"Not magic. _Magick_."

"But that's the same thing."

The girl held out her palm, a bright blue flame blooming within. "I'm talking about the m-a-g-i-c-k magick, one's pure magick, not your cheap twenty-first century magic stores' magic."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh." She balled her palm and turned her back to my floating form. "You'll just float and follow me until I release you at the infirmary."

"Nice to know."

And so we left. The trip to the infirmary started out well. The girl was fast when it came to pace-and I meant fast. She looked like she was jogging in slow motion, but the people she passed in the hallways were simple blurs.

I tried to engage in conversation with her, to pass the time, but she ended each try as quickly as they came with short, almost one-worded answers:

Me: "So how'd you come here, anyway?"

Her: "Lord Erebus."

Me: "This place treating you well?"

Her: "Fine."

Me: "You know, I still don't know your name yet."

Her: "And you don't need to."

Me: "So who's this 'Cas' you mentioned earlier?"

Her: "No one."

Me: "Okay. So what's your favorite color?"

Her: "Red."

Me: "Why red?"

Her: "Blood."

I didn't ask the girl to explain that any further. I was sure I knew what she meant by "blood".

Not very pleasant, now was she? Once it was made obvious she didn't want to talk, I did the only thing I could think of. I settled myself into a quiet sleep. I laid my head against the invisible force- magick- that kept me afloat and tried to sleep.

I'd realize later that it didn't take long to fall into another unconsciousness.

* * *

I dreamt of a forest, but not any particular forest. A village bordered this forest, beside that a waterfall. And I'm talking about a Niagara Falls type waterfall.

My vision zoomed from the forest to the waterfall. Dozens of straw roofs were like misshapen yellow squares and the people dark dots. I had the feeling I was a bird, graceful and free in the air.

I finally slowed down enough to witness a middle-aged man leading a girl toward the edge of the village, the waterfall. The girl was young; about six or seven in age. She had black hair and chocolate skin. She wore a multicolored dress- a _huipil_, I'd learn later- and she was barefoot.

_She resembles the girl who could levitate me off the ground_, a voice told me.

The girl didn't beg or cry or scream or fight. She went along with the man, as if she was content with probably dying. She stumbled a couple of times, but the man didn't help her regain her balance. He simply sped up.

My dream self got even closer, about ten feet from the figures. They stood at the edge of the hill now. One step and they were dead. I could tell the girl was shaking with fright while the man stood confidently.

The man whispered something in her ear, smirking. She wiped her palms on her dress as she leaned over the edge. The girl gasped, turning her gaze back at the man. He nodded.

"My Lord Tlaloc would be satisfied," he told her.

The girl reached out to the man, reaching for help back to the village. The man took her arm and the girl relaxed a little.

"I can't have you live, Citlalli," he said swiftly.

The girl- Citlalli- gulped. "Sir, m-my mother needed the medicine. I-I couldn't-"

"Needless to say, every crime deserves punishment."

"I-I'm..."

The man's grip on Citlalli started to weaken. "An honorable sacrifice," he decided. With that, he let her go, a screaming of mist and water below her.

Citlalli flailed her arms, waiting her death's arrival. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Her eyes grew wide.

"Save me, please," she whispered at last. "I am sorry, my Lord Tlaloc. Spare me."

Darkness.

* * *

I awoke with a start in the infirmary, one of those plain kinds of buildings. Finding myself in a cot, I shifted to get a glimpse of my surroundings.

That familiar stab of pain was noticeable again. I winced despite myself, catching the eyes of the girl from before.

I couldn't help but notice the similarities between her and the girl, Citlalli, from my dream. She was clearly older than Citlalli. She didn't wear a _huipil_ and she wasn't barefoot, either. Her ebony hair was defiantly longer but her eyes were the same: a dark brown, almost black. Then again, she didn't look as peaceful as the girl from my dream, either. Only the eyes struck me as one-hundred percent familiar.

"What- you're a doctor as well?" I asked.

"You don't look too happy about my presence."

"Oh, no, I'm exploding from joy."

The girl knitted her eyebrows, studying my face. "Sarcasm," she finally decided.

Her actions got me curious. Sure, she looked modern, but something told me she wasn't. She looked older than she let on. "Yeah," I said, leaning back on the cot. "Yeah."

What was that dream about, anyway? A girl getting thrown to her death. Demigod dreams, most likely. I had never skipped a night without them. I figured I'd take the chance and confirm my thought.

"Citlalli," I said.

The girl frowned. She turned her back to me, arranging something I couldn't see.

I had begun to think it wasn't the same Citlalli as from my dream, that that dream was purely coincidental and part of a random series of equally coincidental events. That she probably thought I was speaking mere ideas verbatim.

"Isn't your name Citlalli?" I inquired.

She looked at me out of the corner of her eyes. And nodded a single time. What if she wasn't Citlalli?

"You can't call me that."

"Why not?"

"My mother," she answered.

"The one who needed medicine?"

She turned back to look at me, a small glass of purple liquid in hand. "How do you know about that?"

I decided to answer honestly. "I had a dream of your death. That man- who was he?"

She stiffened, handing me the vial. "Drink this. You'll feel better. To answer your question, the doctor. He found me sneaking around, looking for the medicine my mother needs- _needed_."

I was quiet; I knew a simple "I'm sorry" wouldn't do. She didn't need any more pity about the death of loved ones. I absently swallowed the tasteless, odorless liquid, handing her back the empty glass.

The change came immediately. My body stopped aching, instead turning numb. The cot beneath me grew more comfortable and I didn't feel so awkward on it anymore. I sighed.

"Is there a reason why I can't call you Citlalli?" I asked quietly.

She sniffed, wiping her eyes. I hadn't noticed she was crying. "I used to go by Lali at first when I joined, now I go by Laila. Cas gave the name to me. He figured that if we were going to completely serve as soldiers of Erebus, a new name was in order... And he was right."

My eyes started to feel heavy, but I fought the urge. "Why?"

"It was only Aquin and I here for years, until Lord Erebus started gathering soldiers to build an army..."

She didn't continue. I decided to press on. "And?"

Her fallen head tilted up to catch my eyes. "Ask Cas. He knows."

Laila could have said something else, but I hadn't heard her. I hadn't been paying attention. I was tuned out, staring at an empty point in space.

Laila's voice filled my head and soon she was gone, leaving the background empty and myself alone in the infirmary. The lights above dimmed as well, signaling nighttime. I relaxed in my cot.

I was too absorbed in my thoughts to notice that someone had been watching me, out in the countless hallways of Headquarters. I was too absorbed in my thoughts to notice that someone might have been Cas, kneeling by the door. And I was too absorbed in my thoughts to notice that it was Cas who wanted to talk to _me_, not the other way around, as I had originally thought.

If I'd only noticed, Cas and I would have been on better terms, because when I asked him the next day, I had a sword point against my neck.


	6. Decisions

**Chapter Five: Decisions**

"_In any moment of decision, the best thing you can do is the right thing, the next best thing is the wrong thing, and the worst thing you can do is nothing._" ~Theodore Roosevelt

* * *

Day five, the day after the infirmary with Laila, and I was fighting the swords trainer, Lucas, again. He had been serious about sparring with me. 100% serious.

We were, once again, fighting.

I was beginning to think he did that just for fun. To get under my skin and annoy me. Maybe it was Lord Erebus's suggestion. Whatever it was, I didn't know.

In our spars, I started out as a quick offensive, but that didn't work out as one would hope. Lucas dodged each hit at the last second, landing some of his own.

My steady offensive soon turned to a weak defensive. Lucas got faster and faster; he reminded me of a whirlwind. His defenses shortened as he spun. Lucas was getting in numerous hit at me.

I didn't have a shield. I only had my sword Riptide, which wasn't working out. Water wasn't anywhere nearby. Half-shredded, bloodied dummies which, at first glance, I had thought were real people littered the arena ground. Chains hung from the ceiling and on there, short ropes and handles were upside-down, as if one was to stand on the ceiling like Spiderman. I suddenly knew what I had to do.

I ducked under Lucas's swing and dove for one of the chains. I struggled for a secure hold, but it wasn't exactly easy when my hands were sweaty and I was hurrying. Safe to say, not my best effort. I'd bet Chiron wouldn't be satisfied.

Lucas was quick. As I climbed up the chains, he saw my intentions. He threw his sword like a javelin. It struck the ceiling, a rusty slab of steel covered in ropes and handholds, and I heard a snap.

Unfortunately, that metallic snap belonged to _my_ chain. I fell through the air and collided with the cement, hearing another series of harsh snaps. These were ones of my bones, I could tell, because the pain exploded.

I remembered screaming then- screaming in pure agony- from the pain. I yelled to make it stop. I yelled to stop fighting. I yelled for Lucas to get away. I yelled for everything to _stop_.

Lucas didn't stop fighting. He didn't get away. Nothing stopped.

His red-tinged self advanced upon me, weapon in hand. He put a blurry sword to my neck. I grimaced. "Useless," he said. "You know why, Jackson, I fight you everyday?"

I could barely shake my head in response. "N-no..."

"Lord Erebus was wrong," he sheathed his sword. "You don't belong here. The Fates were wrong about you; that's a complete fact. You'll never be able to kill."

Darkness.

* * *

I awoke to the familiar sight of the infirmary. Laila was giving me another vial of the tasteless purple liquid, which I accepted. I swished it around in my mouth a couple of times to get rid of the metallic taste of blood in my mouth, swallowing.

"Here we are again," Laila sighed. She leaned against the pole that supported the cot I laid in.

"I'm starting to think Lucas hates me."

"No," she shook her head. "Jackson, Cas doesn't _hate_ anyone. Only his enemies."

"Yeah? You're sure?"

She gave me a look of playful annoyance. "Positive. Cas would need a reason to hate someone."

"He beats me up everyday."

"That's not a reason."

"He's probably going to kill me one-"

"_Not_ a reason, Jackson," Laila said again. She crossed her arms. "Don't you think that Cas is fighting you to prepare you for your first mission?"

I frowned. "So that's how you're trained here?"

"It's always been this way."

"And you'd know how...?"

She looked down, playing with one of the rings that decorated her fingers. "Lord Erebus recruited me first. I was his first soldier. I would have to know how things work around here; I helped my Lord Erebus organize them."

I was curious, to say the least. "When were you, ah, recruited?"

She straightened from the pole. "1510." My mouth dropped to Tartarus. "504 years of servitude, yes," she said.

I was scared to ask. "W-what about Lucas?"

"Lucas- _Cas_- joined in 1932. 82 years of servitude."

"Aquin?"

Laila was hesitant. "Nobody knows, not even Aquin himself. Lord Erebus knows; we_ know_ he knows. He just won't tell us-" she took a sharp intake of a breath then and collapsed to the infirmary floor.

"Laila?" Feeling completely energized, I rose from the cot. "Laila, what are you-?" I knelt to better examine her.

Unmoving and unconscious, the first soldier of Erebus laid on the floor. Her eyes were closed and she was faintly breathing. "L-Laila?" I shook her shoulders gently. "Laila! Wake up!"

A series of nimble footsteps grabbed my attention. I looked up. The figure was donned with what looked like ebony, silk pants and a shirt of the same color. An embroidered cape of foreign designs hung from his shoulders. It seemed his whole wardrobe was comprised of the color black. He had coal-colored, wavy hair that reached to his shoulders and a permanent frown. This figure was my swords trainer, Lucas. "You told him too much, Lali," he murmured. "It was the only way, I'm afraid."

I got to my feet, bringing out Riptide in pen form. "Cas." I uncapped my sword and leapt at him.

Lucas sidestepped and caught my blade with his own. He pushed me back to the walls, holding his sword to my neck. "Don't call me that," he hissed. "You don't know anything about me."

"Why'd you kill her?!" The sword went in deeper; I felt it.

"She isn't _dead_," he responded calmly. "You would be a fool to think so. Where's the blood, hmm?"

He had a point. Then again, he really didn't. "You've spent 82 years here; you'd know how to hide a little blood."

Lucas had the nerve to smirk as he sheathed his sword. "Coming from the newcomer, that is true. I marvel, really, at how you come up with the wildest ideas imaginable." He turned to face Laila's unconscious body. "But she isn't dead, much to your wishes."

"I don't want her-"

"Dead," he finished. Lucas gave me a look of contempt. "Stop trying to figure us out, Jackson. We aren't your new friends, and you don't need to treat us as such. You may have Lali feeding you information, but you'll never figure us out completely."

"I'm not-"

"Trying to figure us out?" he sneered. "I've been watching you since you arrived, Jackson. Lord Erebus thinks you're the right one. He thinks he's finally recruited the hero to overthrow Olympus. Are you able to kill? No. Are you able to fight? No. Are you the one of the prophecy? No. Your loyalty still stays with _them_- Olympus. You're useless that way."

I ignored his 'useless' statement. "I can fight. And the prophecy is over."

"Not _that_ prophecy."

"Which one, then?"

Lucas picked up Laila's body with ease and placed her on a cot nearby. "Like I would tell you. Get out of here, Jackson. You weren't ever needed. Lord Erebus was wrong."

"He's not wrong."

"Hm," he mused. "Newcomer is getting defensive of the Lord. You shouldn't. Don't be disappointed when Lord Erebus doesn't see anything fit of your presence and executes you." The expression on my face urged him to continue. "Erebus isn't just going to release you into the mortal world with knowledge of this place. He'll personally take away your memories and execute you. Sometimes," he smiled, "Sometimes, he lets me execute the poor soul myself. And you don't want to suffer at the hands of an enemy, do you?"

I shook my head quickly. I didn't want to get on bad terms with this guy, but he was impossible. Every wrong path I took, he was on top of. I couldn't hide anything. I decided to stick with the safe answer: "No."

Lucas turned to face me. "Tell you what. I'll give you until tomorrow. If you're not gone by then," he smirked wider. "I'll kill you. Nothing personal, of course."

I had no choice but to accept.

* * *

I was pretty sure that by now it was midnight. I was in the arena again, fighting. But this time, it wasn't Lucas, nor was it one of the soldiers. I was fighting the real-looking dummies. I had destroyed two dozen, angry at myself. Angry at Lucas. Angry at the world. Lucas hated me, for whichever reason.

He wanted me out of his sight.

He wanted me gone.

He wanted me dead.

He wanted me lying in a puddle of my own blood.

I looked north to the clock; _12:43 AM_, it read. This was it. My victory at this new life I was constructing was short-lived. I was to leave. Or Lucas would kill me instead.

I kicked back an incoming dummy. I jumped forward, driving Riptide through its head. Lucas didn't give me much of a choice.

I threw my sword like a javelin, impaling another in the eye.

Flipped out-of-the-way of an arrow. Caught it instead.

A black-as-night bow appeared in my hands and I immediately knew what to do. I drew back the string, notching the arrow. I shot it back at the arrow's owner.

Dummies. Huge groups of them. They were surrounding me, weapons in hand.

I smiled, narrowing my eyes. "Not very fair, huh guys?"

They didn't respond, something I was grateful of. I didn't want to know what they were going to say. Their carved, cruel smiles grew more distinct as they edged closer, one by one, decreasing the circle's capacity. One of the dummies hummed, or maybe it was my imagination.

"Yeah, all right," I said. I sidestepped a sword, slamming it out of a robot's grasp. I waved them back and I leapt at the dummies once again.

Later my not-yet-friend Lucas would describe this as an ocean's eternal wave. I wasn't aware of such a comparison. I guessed that was why I was truly the sea's child, besides my physical resemblance. It didn't have to do with my appearance, it had to do with my skills and values. Maybe that explained the reason for dying my hair a dark blue decades from now, or sticking to the sword and training with my brother in everything but blood, Lucas. That was probably also the reason I wanted to disconnect from my heritage and get as far away as I could from this deadly power.

The ocean couldn't be restraint. Therefore, _I_ couldn't be restraint. I was afraid of this; afraid of my_self_. Was that why Lucas wanted me gone? Dead?

I would show him. I'd fight him.

"Fight him, then what?"

Kill him, of course. Hopefully get Laila's help and hide away his body before Lord-

"Erebus," I said, surprised. I sank to one knee and bowed my head.

"Killing my finest lieutenant," Lord Erebus mused, "Are you sure, Perseus?"

So he was capable of reading thoughts. I rose slowly, unsure of my reply. "Yea- oh. No... Sir."

"We are not that merciful here, Perseus," he said.

"Yes, sir."

"You do not think of us as family or friends."

"Y-yes sir."

"We are your allies," he confirmed. "We chose _you_. You should be grateful."

"Yes, sir," I said again.

Lord Erebus paused. "Perseus, should you feel anything out-of-place, you are free to leave any time."

"I know, sir."

"The real question is, will you?"

I focused my stare on the cement. I decided to answer honestly. "I don't know, sir."

"You see death and you see new life. Which will you choose, Perseus?"

New life was the obvious choice. I would never go to the Underworld, where I was sure I would meet Annabeth one day. I vowed I'd never see her again. I told him the second choice.

"Good," he said. "The prophecy was right. You have just received your first mission."

I was surprised. "What? No, sir. I-I can't... What about my training?"

He shrugged. "To make sure of that, Cas is coming with."

I so badly wished the guy who wanted me dead didn't come with.


	7. The Mission

**Chapter Six: The Mission**

"_True friends stab you in the front._" ~Oscar Wilde

* * *

After Lord Erebus disappeared, I was left with a stronger motive to kill Lucas. No, I didn't want to simply get back at him, I wanted a harsh revenge on the lieutenant. I had to kill him before he killed me. This was survival of the fittest, wasn't it?

It seemed Lucas hated anything nice. Laila's friendliness toward me had bothered him; in return she was knocked out and unconscious. I had enough years on me to know that Lucas's reason was wrong. I guessed someone with a reputation like his could get away with anything and threaten anyone before Lord Erebus began to call order- heck, before he even came to _care_ an inkling about the situation.

Lucas was mysterious; Laila had said that he was now serving his 82nd year in Headquarters. That was more than quadruple my age. Sure, Lucas was well, stronger, more powerful, wiser than me... But that didn't mean anything, right? I could surely challenge his authority.

But I wasn't the idiot some thought me to be.

Lucas would kill me before I could get the chance to even pull out Riptide. I sighed. The odds weren't exactly in my favor with this. I knew nothing about Lucas, and I refused to use Laila for my own advantage. This was my fight, not hers.

Lucas was smart, I'd give him that. He didn't let me know of anything to get under his skin. He was careful of what he said around me. He wasn't like the others. Maybe that was why Lord Erebus kept him as lieutenant for so long- his impenetrable loyalty.

I didn't know much about Lucas, but I did know one thing. He told me yesterday he didn't want me becoming one of them- the soldiers of Erebus, perhaps- acting as if me joining would be a poison to him. What if I was?

Lucas had also told me that I wasn't the one of the prophecy. He had disagreed with Lord Erebus's predicament. So, apparently, there was another prophecy I had to spend my life worrying about. Oh, joy.

Lucas stated that Lord Erebus thought he had finally found the one to overthrow Olympus- _me. Strangely enough, what if he was right? What if I did overthrow Olympus?_

Well it wouldn't be my fault... Not directly, at least. My loyalties switched; I wasn't a pawn of the gods anymore. I was free.

_Not that_ _free_, I reminded myself. I had to look up at Erebus not only as Lord, but savior. He was the one that fished me out of my old life, giving me another chance.

Chance. It seemed like this compound was made of chances- and dozens of them. I could be remade here, regardless of Lucas.

And that's exactly what I planned to do.

* * *

"Jackson!"

A series of hurried knocks and a few choosing words came next.

"Jackson, get up!"

I pulled the covers lazily over my head, effectively shutting them out.

A moment passed.

And another.

Then, quietly, "Lord Erebus won't be pleased, you know."

The voice was right; he wouldn't. I removed the blanket from my head, looking up at the black ceiling. What a pristine-looking color, black.

I rose from the bed and made my way to the door. "What?" What were they talking about?

The voice- Laila- had decided to be simple and straightforward about it. "You're late."

I asked again what she was talking about, straining my ear against the metal of my door.

"Your mission, Jackson?" she replied, annoyed.

That's right. My eyes grew wide. How could that have slipped my mind? My first mission. "You're not kidding."

I looked down at my clothes; I had fallen asleep with the same clothes from yesterday. Well, that would do fine. People weren't exactly Aphrodite in this place.

I opened the door, facing my friend. She chipped off chunks of a blueberry muffin, popping them in her mouth. She threw me what was left of the muffin- barely half.

"What are you doing here, Laila?" I frowned. "What's up with the muffin?"

"No one was willing to walk you down to Lord Erebus's office and receive your first mission. C'mon," she sighed, "you're already late." She turned and left me at my threshold.

"Hey, wait!" I nibbled on a blueberry as I caught up to Laila. "Why?"

She didn't acknowledge me. "It's how people do things around here. Tradition."

Well... "Not that. Why wasn't anyone willing to, you know?"

Laila put it bluntly. "They hate you."

"Oh."

"No offense."

I didn't respond.

"You should have seen Z receive _her _first mission. Aquin volunteered for her. He never volunteers."

"I'll bet."

Laila gave me a soft smile. "There is nothing to worry about, Percy."

That saying worried me. "So much for the reassurance."

"I thought it helped?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, it did." Not really.

A moment of silence and Laila froze at the end of the hallway, facing a... Plain wall. I was about to ask Laila what we were doing when she muttered something under her breath.

A golden outline of a door appeared and Laila pulled it open. "After you," she said, "assuming you live."

I froze. "Live?"

"Unless you're scared."

"I'm not scared."

"Then go through the threshold."

"Aren't you coming with?"

"No. You have to go by yourself."

I walked into complete darkness. The open door was my only source of light- well, it could have been. If it hadn't been so wisely shut behind me.

I backtracked and twisted the doorknob- nothing. Locked. Great. Now what?

No light, no way of escape. How was I supposed to leave? I couldn't.

Naturally, I decided to do what any person alone in a haunted house would do. I turned from the door and called, "Hello?"

Of course, I didn't exactly think someone would reply with my name: "Perseus Jackson."

Unfortunately I recognized that voice, Lord Erebus, coming from everywhere but nowhere. "Sir." I mentally scolded myself; I should have expected him to be here. He was, in fact, darkness, hence his name. I knelt slowly.

"Rise, Perseus." I did as he ordered. "Do you know why you've been sent here?"

"My first mission?"

His words seemed to slow. "Correct. Do you remember six days ago when you arrived?"

"Yes, sir."

"I suppose I've been keeping you in the dark all this time. Cas might have told you, and Laila."

I didn't know what Lucas would ever tell me, but Laila? A hell of a lot more. "What is it, sir?"

Lord Erebus was silent for a moment before he spoke. "I recruited every member in my force for a specific reason: the prophecy. You must understand, Perseus, the Fates themselves arrived centuries ago on behalf of my Lord Chaos. 'The destinies of the many hang in the balance', they said... Have you been briefed on why I asked your presence join?"

I shook my head. "No, sir."

"I believe you, Perseus Jackson, are the one of the prophecy."

So Lucas wasn't lying about that. "But, sir, Lucas said you were wrong."

I heard Lord Erebus sigh. "My lieutenant may think whatever he wishes. Fact is truth, regardless. You, however, must go back to the demigods and Olympians."

"Sir, please, no. Anything but-"

"Should one find anything unruly may one freely leave this company."

I didn't respond. I didn't want to go back to Camp Half-Blood and face my former friends. I was being remade _here_, not there.

"Go, Perseus," Lord Erebus said and a tan file materialized in my hands. "Remember for which side you stand. And remember who you are."

I bowed in the darkness. "Of course, sir."

* * *

Once I left the room, I started to think I had the flu. I felt as if I had ran a marathon barefoot while being pelted with rocks. The golden door closed behind me and I swayed.

I would have fallen to the floor if Laila hadn't caught me in time and helped me stand. She grabbed the file from my slippery hands.

"What's going on?" I whispered. "Is this normal?"

"It's fine, Jackson," Laila answered. "Lord Erebus's presence is powerful, especially his true form, darkness. He isn't a primordial for no reason. His aura is power-hungry."

I started to slip from her grasp, involuntarily, I'd add. "So it eats away at anyone's energy?"

Laila let out a breath, snapping her fingers. I became weightless and rose from the ground. "Exactly." She handed me back the file and started walking in the way of the training arenas. My floating form followed behind her. "Now what does it say?"

"You can't read?" I asked.

"I can, for your information. The file is just blank."

I leafed through the couple papers. Each was filled with neatly-printed words. "No. It's not."

"Only the chosen receiver may read the file. This isn't the first time I've walked someone down for their first mission," she added.

I settled on the first page, quickly skimming its contents. Then the second page, and third, and finally fourth.

"Well?" Laila said once I was done.

I hesitated. I didn't want to tell her about the creepy prophecy Lord Erebus had received from Lord Chaos himself. I didn't want to tell her that I was supposed to go back to Camp Half-Blood. I definitely didn't want to tell her that I was supposed to eliminate the potential threats of the Olympians. They had been my former friends, all of them, at one point or another.

Nevertheless, I told her. "I'm supposed to go back to Camp Half-Blood..."

"And?" _She had to ask; she just had to._

"And... Kill the Olympians' favored resources." She nodded for me to continue. "Laila, I have friends there," I protested.

"Not anymore, Percy. You gave them up for a new life."

"Still..."

"They don't know you anymore," she said gently.

"But _I_ do."

"But _they_ don't. You've been gone for almost a week. You think they're still searching for you? You think they care?"

I had thought they did.

"You're a pawn to the Olympians, Percy. You and every other demigod out there. That's it. They searched for you because you were the powerful son of Poseidon. They didn't want you switching sides on them."

"How can I know you're not lying?"

Laila shrugged. "Have I lied to you before?"

She had a point. "No."

Laila stopped in front of one of the arena's motion-sensor doors. "From what I heard, Cas is coming with you on your mission. He's in there, training, at the moment. He won't actually kill you, I think."

I gripped the tan file tighter. "Y-you think?"

"I'm not an expert on Cas." She sighed, snapping her fingers and the next thing I knew, I was lying on the floor like an idiot. Laila was almost dark compared to the lights above us, or maybe it was just my messed up eyes. Laila smiled. "Goodbye, Percy. You'll definitely wish you were back here again." And with that, my only friend in this place was gone.

I ignored the pain in my shoulders, getting to my feet. I held the file in one hand, Riptide in pen form in the other.

I took a deep breath. _Well, better get this over with. _I stepped forward and the doors opened automatically before me.

Dozens of real-looking dummies had surrounded Lucas, but they were failing miserably at their task. Lucas moved quickly and swiftly with his blade, slicing his opponents in half before they could swing their weapons.

I stopped about twenty feet from the battle, but not before Lucas could take notice of me.

"Well, well," he called above the hums of his adversaries. "Jackson is back."

"And alive. What happened to killing me?"

"You have until midnight tonight, anyway. Fifteen more hours, take note."

"More like a week."

Lucas kicked back his last adversary. He was quick to lunge at it, decapitating it with one clean swipe. "All the better. Let me guess- mission?"

"Yep," I crossed my arms. "And you're coming with."

He kicked aside some dummy remains, making his way toward an extra sword stuck in a wooden beam. He put one hand on the handle, the other on the wood. He pried it out and examined the blade. "How sweet an offer. I'll expect I'm forced to come?"

"All in the file."

"And the prophecy?"

"You were wrong."

Lucas slowly sheathed his two swords. "It's never too late. I'd watch what I said if I were you."

"Thanks for the offer. But I'm not you."

He had the nerve to smirk. "Then you'll love your mission. We leave now."

No packing, nothing. "Now?"

"Is that a problem, Jackson?" he asked harshly.

"N-no."

"Then let's go."

So we did.


End file.
